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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336089">At the Bend of the River</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/pseuds/ladyjax'>ladyjax</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Leverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Earthquakes, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hopeful Ending, Multi, post-disaster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:08:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,212</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyjax/pseuds/ladyjax</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliot, with Quinn in tow, makes his way back to Portland after the Cascadia Subduction Zone ruptures.  What will he find when he gets there?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Amy Palavi/Mr. Quinn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At the Bend of the River</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/eruthros/gifts">eruthros</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A number of years back, my recipient for the Leverage Secret Santa Gift Exchange had a prompt that involved Parker and Hardison having to contend with a disaster with Eliot on the other side of the country.  I ended up starting that story and not finishing it and writing something else but the idea of that disaster being the Cascadia Subduction Zone giving way hasn't left me.  And given what's going on right now, I needed a bit of hope in the midst of something so life changing.  So, here is a rough excerpt from that never finished story.</p><p>Also, I've never been to Portland and I'm spitballing all of the distances, etc. because maps can only take you so far.</p><p>Happy birthday, my friend.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eliot’s stomach dropped when their boat came around the bend in the river.  There was smoke, so much smoke, coming from the CEI that it blanketed one side of the river.  Beside him, Quinn blew out a tired breath.</p><p>“We’re almost there,” he said quietly.  Eliot nodded sharply; Quinn had his own worries.  His relationship with Amy was fresh and new when the quake hit.  He’d rolled his eyes and waved off the humorous (and vaguely threatening) shovel talk from the trio, but Eliot knew there was something there.  More than once he’d seen the other man’s eyes follow their GM around the brew pub, had seen the way Amy’s own face softened when she saw Quinn.  </p><p>The length of time it took to even get this far on river transport had sent both men nearly through the roof.  Vance had helped, sending them to a contact who was heading into the disaster zone to bring supplies by boat. For once he didn’t try to extort a future favor down the line. Eliot made a mental note to ask Hardison if there was some security upgrade he could throw Vance’s way in the future.  Right now, getting home consumed him. Immediate effects from the ruptured Cascadia Subduction Zone included a tsunami that ravaged the Oregon and Washington coasts, as well as Northern California with additional shocks felt hundreds of miles away from the epicenter.  </p><p>His last message with Hardison three weeks prior had been a breathless call on a sat phone:: “We’re both okay.  You’re not going to be able to get in here unless you’re coming with aid and relief services.  Stay safe.  We love you.”</p><p>Damn him. </p><p>When their boat finally pulled over to the makeshift dock that had been built by the Army Corps of Engineers, both Eliot and Quinn helped tie it off then grabbed their packs and hopped off.</p><p>“If you could swing back and give us a hand, once you make sure your folks are okay, that’d be very much appreciated.”  Tim Bowman was an old river man who’d worked many a rescue on the Mississippi and, more recently, as a member of the Cajun Navy.  He was the main reason why they’d made it at all, given that most of the roads in and out of Portland were deeply impacted by the quake. </p><p>Eliot secured his pack then shook Tim’s hand., “Might take a minute,” he said, “but we’ll be back as soon as we can get free.”</p><p>Quinn didn’t argue with him, just hefted his pack and made sure it was secure on his back.  He gave a brief, hard nod and said, “Let’s get a move on.”</p><p>Eliot had been in all kinds of war zones but there was something humbling about what Mother Nature could do all on her own.  What had once been beautiful, old buildings lay in heaps of rubble, their lack of any retrofitting dooming them to destruction.  His eyes picked out landmarks that he’d come to know since they’d settled in the city, took in people who wore shell shocked expressions and probably would for a while. </p><p>“Christ,” Quinn muttered.  “This is a mess.”</p><p>“Gonna take months to even get big parts of this running again,”  Eliot replied.  </p><p>“Wondering if y’all should pull on out of here once we get to the pub.”</p><p>Eliot was half thinking that the longer they walked.  There’d been some effort to get the roads cleared which enabled the National Guard patrols to move about in Humvees.  They passed a school that, by some small miracle, had nearly survived intact and was in use as a base camp for the Red Cross and the Guard.</p><p>Even with skirting heavy damage downtown, it was nearly an hour and half before they came close to the brewpub. The realization that they were being shadowed had hit both men two blocks back.  </p><p>“What do you think?”  Quinn asked coversationaly.  Eliot shrugged.  </p><p>“Might be just some folks watching out for their stuff.  I’d be doing the same.”</p><p>He still surreptitiously checked that his pack was secure, making a quick calculation on how quickly he could get it off and throw it if needed.  As they rounded the last corner, both men stopped and stared.</p><p>Over the previous weeks, Eliot’s mind had supplied every conceivable scenario that he might find once he made it back to the brewpub.  What he didn’t expect was:</p><p>    The pub, still standing, with the lights on and people inside as well as outside in small groups.</p><p>    A part of their warehouse damaged but also still standing with the damage part roped off</p><p>    Much of the rubble from buildings surrounding them pushed off to one side of the street with any usable materials piled neatly on the other.</p><p>    A first aid station manned by a combination of scouting groups: Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts and BPSA, some of whom Eliot recognized.</p><p>    Another station that was tagged with an “Information” sign.</p><p> </p><p>Eliot blinked hard and then he broke into a run, Quinn hard on his heels.  He bolted up the stairs, pushed past a few people in the door and bellowed, “Parker!  Hardison!.”</p><p>Everyone and everything in the room stopped. </p><p>“El?”</p><p>He turned to see Hardison and Parker standing in the doorway.  </p><p>“What’ve I told you about being all shouty...oof!”  Hardison’s playful rant was cut off by Eliot enveloping him in a tight hug.  He closed his eyes, breathing in the younger man’s scent, his warmth surrounding Eliot as Hardison’s arms came around him.  Somehow, Parker had wriggled one arm into the tiny fraction of space between his pack and his back and hugged both he and Hardison together.</p><p>The slow drone of the crowd washed over them as Eliot held on.  “I’m sorry,” he said wetly.  “I should’ve been here.”  He raised his head so he could look at them.  “I tried to get back….”</p><p>“Shhh,” Parker said as she cupped his cheek with her hand.  She tickled his back with the other before letting him go.  “It was scary but we knew you wouldn’t get here quick.”</p><p>Hardison picked up the narrative.  “So, it was just going to be us for a while.  We got as many people as we could together and got to work.”</p><p>“How did this…?”  Eliot waved a hand at the room and Hardison chuckled.</p><p>“Would you believe that the last owner actually had the place retrofitted?  I went back and looked at the files.  He had it done about two years before I bought it.  The warehouse is going to have to be rebuilt but the tanks are safe.”</p><p> </p><p>Eliot gave a hiccuping laugh, “And that tail?  We spotted ‘em but left them alone.”</p><p>Hardison grinned hard.  “That would be the, uh, Neighborhood Benevolent Association.”</p><p>Parker leaned over and whispered,  “Some of them come in for beer sometimes.  We asked them to watch out for you.”</p><p>“I see.”  He took off his pack, letting it drop to his feet, and he caught sight of Quinn and Amy, foreheads pressed close together.  </p><p>“You’re gonna want a shower and we got soup tonight,” Parker said.  She grabbed his pack and slung it over her shoulder.  “Let’s get you home.”</p><p>Eliot pressed kisses on their cheeks and hugged their waists tight.</p>
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